


The Nocturne and The Lark

by Aminias



Series: (I know why the caged bird sings) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Daddy Kink, Escort Peter, Humor, In which I try to write a PWP, Kink, M/M, Virgin Sacrifice, buckle up for some sexy times, love at first snark, notice the try, something Stiles does not want to be, you heard me escort Peter, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: Peter opened the door to the house; carrying a tie in his hand.  He wore the rest of a suit, the clothing anything but loose of ill-fitting.Everything about him screamed lewd and casual sex.He took off his coat and holy fuck that pirate esque shirt  was melded on and the top three buttons were undone.Avon called they want you to come in and be on the cover of a few Historical Romances.Stiles felt faint.“Boyd, catch me.” He whispered. Boyd propped him up then got up and left.Traitor.





	The Nocturne and The Lark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/gifts).



> I DONT KNOW WHAT IS UP WITH SPACING I DID NOT DO IT  
> This is all Twists fault. My attempt at a PWP. 
> 
> Anyway have some more Escort Peter the mistakes are my own and in no way, anyone elses scream at me in the comments. 
> 
> red crate gave this a lookie loo to smooth my anxious feathers and also brought it to new heights with some great advice
> 
> The name is a dual layered joke/ pun 
> 
> I'm thinking about a sequel

Peter opened the door to the house; carrying a tie in his hand. He wore the rest of a suit, the clothing anything but loose of ill-fitting.

 

Everything about him screamed lewd and casual sex.

 

He took off his coat and holy fuck that pirate  esque shirt  was melded on and the top three buttons were undone.

 

_Avon called they want you to come in and be on the cover of a few Historical Romances._

 

Stiles felt faint.

 

“Boyd, catch me.” He whispered. Boyd propped him up then got up and left. _Traitor._

 

Derek's eyebrows contorted in a complicated manner. “Peter! That's disgusting!”

 

“Nephew, it’s a part of life.” The older wolf smiled. Peter leaned against the wall, muscles flexing as he crossed his arms.

 

“You smell like a whore house.” If this was anyone else that would sound less like a statement.

 

“Don’t be silly, these days it’s hotel rooms.”

 

Erica whistled lowly. Stiles did his best to disappear into the couch cushions. Please no one notice his budding arousal.

 

“I thought you’d quit.” Only Derek can imply question marks with his eyebrows.

 

“Well, the coma did put a damper on things but I haven't lost all my clients.”

 

“Clients?” Scott asked. _Why did he have to go and do that? Bless his innocent soul._ Stiles was left picturing Peter in some red robed monstrosity and little else. He couldn’t help but be intrigued and embarrassed by the thought.

 

“Oh, you sweet summer child didn't anyone ever tell you what I did for a living?”

 

“Peter’s a prostitute.” Derek bit out   Erica cackled and looked ready to ask his going rate. Boyd huffed. Scott's eyes went wide.

 

“It’s his body he can do what he wants with it.” Stiles said before he could stop himself.  Everyone looked at him and this time he really did beg the couch to swallow him.

 

“Escort, please.” Peter corrected regaining his audience.

 

“Is money an issue or?” Scott puzzled his face twitching. Stiles was proud of him for having the benefit of the doubt.

 

“He’d like you to think that,” Derek grumbled.

 

“Yes, forging a new identity isn’t easy Scott, however, this is a profession of choice.”

 

“Great. Here we go.” Clearly, Derek at least had heard this spiel before.

 

“I make my own hours and, if you must know, the money's fantastic, I’m good at what I do.”

 

"Interesting." Erica purred. Peter offered her a card.

 

“He just wants to be worshiped.” Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles shifted in his seat.

 

“It’s not my fault you got shafted in the sex god gene department, Nephew." Peter stalked to the center of the room. “Now then, if  there’s no use for me at this meeting, I think I’ll be going.” He whirled and stormed out the door.

 

“I, uh, guess that's it, guys.” Scott eventually said.

 

“So we can go now?” Isaac ventured.

 

“Whoop!” Erica laughed, prowling over to Stiles. She slid into the couch seat beside him, ignoring his questioning look.

 

While the others debated the merits of ordering pizza vs. tacos, her hand brushed his. She handed him a white card and tossed him a wink over her shoulder as she flounced away.

 

It read: _Peter Hale, Professional Escort, contact with inquiries._

 

His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he looked at the trash can. He had to avert his eyes lest anyone read the thoughts crossing his mind.  

 

“Hey man, what do you want?” Scott looked up from the phone.

 

Stiles pocketed the card. “Nothing. I’ll be heading out; all this Darach stuffs turning my stomach.”

* * *

 

It’s not everyday ones faced with the prospect of being a virgin sacrifice.

There are other options for losing his pesky v-card. Stiles knows he’s not abominable to look at. The students at his local high school may be blind, but folks at the Jungle aren't. Stiles didn’t have an opinion on Peter's chosen profession one way or another. He wasn’t about to shame the wolf for it, that’d be a fruitless endeavor anyway. The older Hale seemed more than capable of championing himself. If Peter wants to sell himself then that's all fine and dandy. Stiles will just let it drop and not wonder how he files his tax returns.

That should have been the last of it yet he still finds himself pulling out Peter's card.  He should have thrown out the thing, not kept it. Maybe gone back to the Jungle and dealt with his feelings there. Something safer than thinking about Peter Hale. Stiles never did like safe. So he spends. several restless nights of taking himself in hand during the shower and not admitting who he’s picturing.

 

(The test never lies.)

  


Hell the mixed feelings of guilt and discomfort play a part in influencing his fantasies.

 

It takes harrowing instance where his father nearly walks in before he stops kidding himself.

Stiles seriously begins to toss the idea around. To let himself imagine what a carnal experience with Peter Hale would be like.

 

Finally, last night he’d made his choice. Stiles had bit the bullet pulled up the listed website and went about setting up his appointment.  He’d filled out the huge checklist form thingie, signed the contract. Stiles chooses the stop light system as his safe system of choice, green yellow red is easy to remember. If those searches for the kinks he was unsure about didn’t put him on some watch list he didn’t know what would. He hoverd for a long moment over one box squirming in his seat he clicked yes to the five letter word. 

 

Now, here he was jumping right in the deep side of the pon BDSM and gay sex the first go round. Stiles took one last steadying breath and pulled the door to the hotel open.

He’d made the call earlier today, and now it was time to face the music.  Stilinski's never backed down from a challange.

Signing the contract and opening the door were the easiest parts. _Buck up_ , he told himself.

Then he stepped into the room.

* * *

 

“What are you expecting out of this?” Peter inquired.

 

“It’s difficult to talk about.” He shook his head. “I outlined this in the contract isn’t that enough?”

 

“Nothing here leaves this room.” Peter reminded him, the picture of patience. Stiles had the distinct impression of a wolf watching a lamb.

 

“Your thoughts may have changed from what you listed, altered some.” The older man prompted.

 

Peter was all but licking his chops.

 

“I want you to.” He stopped abruptly, biting his lip. This was absurd. “Nevermind I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“That you wanted to live?” Peter's hand brushed his jaw his eyes soft and blue.

Stiles twitched and stilled. He was reminded of a not so different situation in a parking garage what seemed like light years from now. The devil or death?

Pete’s thumb rested on his jaw not demanding but firm and knowing.

Stiles made his choice.

“You're going to make me say it aren't you?” He replied amused despite himself.

He lifted his eyes to meet the wolf who simply smiled.

 

“Fine.” _Asshole_ he bristled. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

“Tut, tut, lying is a sin.” Peter smirked.

 

“So is sodomy and whoring.” He shot back unable to help himself.

 

“Ouch, we really must work on your dirty talk.”

 

Stiles sighed caving. “I need you to fuck me, Peter, there happy?”

 

“Ecstatic. With that much enthusiasm, how can I say no?”

 

“I’m paying you.” He pointed out.

 

“A deposit doesn’t count.”

 

“Uh huh, that was half my savings!” A good portion he had a feeling Peter would be giving it back anyway.

 

“Pack discount.”

 

Stiles laughed not surprised when it came out bitter. Now that Peter was going to fuck him he’s pack? Interesting concept.

 

“Right, what's the other amount for?”  He wondered shucking off his shoes.

 

“Virgin special. Shall I go on?” Peter mused unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up. Stiels definitely didn’t get lost watching the way his muscles flexed with motion.

 

“Please do.” Stiles invited, he was gracious like that.

 

“Very well since you're pulling my arm,” The werewolf sighed stripping out of his coat.

 

“Free it is.” Peter jovially said.

 

Stiles caught himself  following the bunch and roll of the wolf's shoulders under his well-tailored outfit.

 

“Wait for what?” He blinked then it clicked in his head and he rolled his eyes.

 

“Really?” Stiles laughed incredulous.

 

“It’s not every day you get your cherry popped.”

 

“I can’t believe I was going to pay you.”

 

“Me too, I can assure you the surprise was mutual.”

 

“Filthy bastard.” Stiles shrugged out of his shirt.

 

“My parentage is not in question.”

 

“Dirty old man.” He teased, grinning.

 

"You say that now sweetheart but, I’m going to have you begging.”

 

"Jesus-H-Christ did I walk into a bad porno?”

 

"Considering the ticket price I'd say it's a very good one."

 

"That remains to be seen so far I'm not impressed."

 

"On the bed then, I best earn my keep." The wolf stepped forward removing his shirt.

 

"Wait!"  Stiles frantically threw out his hands.

 

His palms brushing the smooth planes of Peter's chest. Stiles’ gaze wandered tracking the trail of hair over his body, observing his abdominal muscles flex with every breath. His eyes were half lidded taking their fill of the strength corded within those broad shoulders. The way those lips tugged into an amused smirk. He’d been staring for what felt like several minutes.

 

Stiles' cheeks burned.

 

Peter arched an eyebrow.

 

"Kiss me?"

 

"Of course." The wolf immediately indulged.

 

The hand that had brushed Stiles’ jaw earlier came to rest on his neck. The weight sure and grounding. Peter tilted his head and carefully brought them closer until their lips brushed.

The wolf enveloped him; he left Stiles voracious and wanting for more. He followed Peter in a jilted dance, teasing kisses from each other.

The action brought them further into the room, a wildly inappropriate dance. His knees hit the back of something.

 

He blinked, eyes fluttering open confused.

Foolishly, he’d let Peter guide the proceedings. So lost in frenzy of things he hadn’t noticed their destination. Stiles now realized the man had moved them into the bedroom to the bed to exact keeping Stiles focus on the kiss.

 

“You just shrekked me!”

 

Peter smiled and pressed him down further onto the bed.

 

“Like he did with Donkey on the bridge in the - Mmmph.”  

 

His words were swallowed by another kiss. This one hungry as Peter possessively licked into his mouth. His tongue felt hot and sure as it brushed his own. Stiles’ mind screeched to a halt, then screamed for air.

 

He broke away panting, only now feeling the cool air of the hotel AC as it washed over the bare skin of his upper body. Peter had worked open the buttons of his shirt amid kiss number two.

 

“Well,” Stiles bit out. Human skin didn’t stand up to the things that went bump in the night and his bruised easily.

 

“Are you going to make me do all the heavy lifting?” Peter asked referring to Stiles’ legs, which still dangled over the edge of the bed.

 

With more ease than he felt, Stiles lifted his arms behind his head and crossed them.

“I figured I’d kick back and relax.”

 

The position, and knowledge of Peter's rapt attention, made him feel vulnerable and desired. Like he was sexy, the type of person deserving of such attention.

 

Peter brushed kisses to the corner of his mouth reeling him back in. He clasped Stiles’ wrists together with one hand, effectively pinning him. The hold was secure even as he twisted in the older man's grip. He was entirely unprepared for the way the second one trailed down his body and curled around his cock. The hand gave a little tug hello.

 

“Aah, a little warning next time.” Stiles gasped squirming under the touch.

 

“Next time? My, aren't we hopeful.”

 

“I know you just can’t resist my charm.” Stiles fired back, but Peter himself was terribly distracting. The way he was working his mouth over the column of Stiles' throat had him baring his neck seeking more.

 

“It’s-ah right there-” Peter judiciously bit down, and, for a moment, Stiles’ mind went blank.

 

“As I was saying.” Stiles' chest heaved when the white noise receded. “What's that word?”  He asked himself mind slow from the onslaught of Peter’s skin, mouth and hand against his own. His body trembled under Peter’s touch, hips jerking.

“I can’t think.”

 

“High praise.” Peter grinned leaving crescent shaped  mark on his pale skin.

 

“Inevitable, falling prey to  my charms is inevitable! He cried as his distracted brain finally coughed up the word.

 

Peter paused. “You’re right.” The man allowed teasing a nipple with his fingers.

 

“I-What?”

 

“Must I expand?” Peter sighed awfully put-upon for a man with his hand on Stiles’ dick.

 

Stiles reached for him, making grabby hands, but Peter shied away hunting for the lube.

 

“I think I kicked it off the bed.” The human snorted then, at the loss of Peters magical hands.

 

“You did.” The wolf rolled his eyes and reached over the side of the bed.

 

“I can’t help it; I got limbs to spare.”

 

“Yes well, you haven't elbowed me in the abs yet so you're doing fine.” Peter opened the container and lifted Stiles leg getting ready to prep him.

 

“Did that really happen?”  He questioned attempting to get used to the way the  finger felt moving inside him.

 

“Giving someone a handjob while making out is more difficult than most people think.”

 

“You seem to be—mhm—an expert.” He arched into the press of Peter's fingers. It’d taken a bit to adjust to the first one but now he was warming up to the idea.

 

“Relax I’m a professional.”

 

“I’m trying you're not the one with fingers up your ass.” Peter leaned down and gave him an arch look.

“No, but I could be.” He punctuated the statement by rubbing the young man's prostate.

 

Stiles’ body jackknifed surprised by the pleasurable sensation.

 

“Oww fuck sorry warn a guy, Jesus.” It had hurt him far more than Peter when they headbutted each other.

 

“I take back what I said earlier. This is infinitely more amusing and worse.”

 

“I’m a hazard can’t even have sex properly.” Stiles groaned falling back.

 

“Darling, breathe.” Peter reminded expression rapturous as he coaxed another finger in alongside the first one. Stiles lifted his head and Peter kissed him open mouthed and dirty.

 

“I want to pin your arms down and slide right into this sweet little body. What's your color baby?”

 

“Green.” He rasped overwhelmed by Peter ministrations.

 

“Quit dawdling and fuck me already!” Stiles demanded, tense with anticipation and desperate to have Peter in him.

  


“As you wish Princess.”

 

“This isn’t the time for confessions.” Stiles snapped, adjusting to the feel of Peter in him.

 

Things were slightly uncomfortable at first, but he scrunched his eyes and made himself relax.

It didn’t take long for him to find himself enjoying the way Peter pressed into him.

The man snapped his hips placing another claiming mark on Stiles’ skin with his teeth.

He quickly began to focus on the bliss he experienced each time Peter slid home within him.

 

“I’ve changed my mind.”

 

Peter paused.

 

“I didn’t say stop!” Stiles looked at him incredulously.

 

The wolf growled eyes flashing pinning Stiles with his hand and with his gaze. “I’ll just keep fucking you then shall I?”

 

“Yes. Ah—do that.” The human told him, face flush with arousal and exertion. “I’ve got a confession.”

 

“Mhm,” Peter grunted alternating his the force of motions.

 

“I love your dick.” He babbled.

 

“Do you ever shut up?” Peter mused.

 

“No? I guess you just not—holy shit please fuck right there!” He’s doing his level best to claw up the sheets not giving a shit if he doesn’t get that deposit back. If Peter’s hand was still clasping his wrists he’d be reaching out to tug the man impossibly closer.

“That’s it. You're taking me so well; I always knew you would baby.”  

 

Stiles arched underneath him, dick hard and aching. He let out a little mewl of frustration weeping pre-come, and desperate for friction.

Words failed him as he was swept up in the feel of Peter's hands on him and the steady drag of his cock.

 

“There's a good boy, baring your throat for me, everyone will see my marks and know who you belong to, who claimed you.”

 

“Yours, Daddy.” He keened stomach twisting with shame and desire.

 

“My good boy; so perfect for Daddy.” The wolf repeated capturing his lips for another kiss movements accelerating.

 

His words heated Stiles from the inside, setting him adrift and reeling him back in for more. Caged as he was beneath Peter's powerful weight, he only needed to accept what the man delivered. He was laid out raw and tender for the taking.

 

Stiles cried out as his orgasm swept through him. His frame shook, his legs kicked out and he tilted his head. Peter buried his face in Stiles’ neck, teeth clamped down as he came.

 

They both lay there a moment twitching with the after shock.

 

“Snuggle.” He demanded poking the wolf.

 

“I should charge you extra.” Peter rolled, bringing Stiles to rest on top of him.

 

The easy way he handled Stiles’ weight was something to be explored next time. For now, Stiles was content to nuzzle Peter's chest and let himself sink into sleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So the title is about Stiles thinking this isn't serious that it's a one night stand a 'lark' that he can fly in not get his feeling hurt or care and fly off and the nocturne is, of course, Peter and a play on the supernatural 
> 
> It's also making fun of trashy romance novels which I have two shelves of and cackle over


End file.
